


Fire Alarms and Losing You

by FloralEyeBalls



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Cheating, Crying Boys, M/M, idk - Freeform, kinda sad maybe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 19:06:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3540665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloralEyeBalls/pseuds/FloralEyeBalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mikey doesn't handle break ups well at the best of times. It was even worse when he came back from lunch with Gerard, and found Pete and some asshole basically having sex on the couch they bought together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fire Alarms and Losing You

**Author's Note:**

> My new years resolution was to write more. its march. i hate myself.

Mikey doesn't handle break ups well at the best of times. It was even worse when he came back from lunch with Gerard, and found Pete and some asshole basically having sex on the couch they bought together when they first moved in to the crappy one bedroom apartment three years ago. 

Pete had played the "I just wasn't thinking straight, I love you" card, but Mikey wasn't buying it. If Pete really took their relationship seriously this wouldn't have been the third time he's cheated in the six years they've been together. Mikey finally took a stand and kicked him out. He cried while doing it and regretted it before the words even left his mouth, but he knew it was or the best. 

"Pete, you have to leave", Mikey had whispered, trying to keep his voice steady

"No. No, Mikey I love you, you know I love you. It was an accident, I fucked up. I'm sorry okay. I love you" Pete had begged, lip quivering and eyes filling with tears

"Pete, please. Don't do this. I can’t do this again"

"Shh, it’s okay Mikey, it won’t happen again I promise!" Pete said honestly, stepping towards Mikey with his arms out 

"Please just leave", his voice cracked on the last word and he couldn't hold it back any longer, the tears spilled from his eyes. "Just leave me alone! I can’t do this" 

Pete looked pained as he said "anything for you", before leaving with nothing but his phone and the clothes he had quickly put on as Mikey stared blankly at him from the door way.

Mikey broke down into heavy, ugly sobs as soon as the door closed behind Pete.

The next morning Mikey woke with a sore neck and tear stains down his face, slumped against the front door, at first he was confused as to what woke him up. Then the tentative knocking started again. 

"Mikey...babe? It’s me" Pete called softly between knocks, "Can we talk about it?"

It took everything he had in him not to just get up, open the door and hug Pete. To make everything okay again. But he knew he couldn't keep doing this, it wasn't healthy. So instead he quietly got up and locked himself in the bathroom, where he called Gerard and told him everything. He tried to focus on Gerard's calming voice instead of Pete's desperate begging and increasingly aggressive knocks.

After about an hour and a half, he couldn't hear Pete anymore and came out of the bathroom to go be miserable in his bedroom. Upon entering the room he realized his error, this wasn't his room, it was theirs. Pete's dirty clothes covered most of the floor, his wallet sat on the bedside table, his crappy $2 eyeliner pencil next to it, and his dumb journal of love songs lay open on the bed. Mikey walked back out to the living room and lay awake on the couch until late that night when the knocking started again.

This time it wasn't Pete though, it was Gerard, with food and DVDs. They didn't talk about it, just sat, and ate, and watched until Mikey was able to fall asleep again. 

Pete came back the next day, with flowers and sleepless eyes. Gerard turned him away. 

Pete came back every day for almost two weeks, then he sent in Patrick. 

"Mikey, man, c'mon. Pete is so fucking sorry, you know he is, just take him back before I actually kill him" 

"It’s not that easy Patrick", Mikey sighed

Patrick came back again the next day then Mikey was left alone. No Pete, no Patrick, not even Gerard.

Part of Mikey was kind of let down that Pete wasn't sitting at his front door, or singing love songs from the footpath. But most of him was happy, maybe they could both move on now. 

Mikey wasn't moving on very well. It had been two and a half weeks and he still couldn't sleep in the bedroom. He still cried when he thought about not having Pete to make fun of, or to heat him up canned soup and try to pretend he made it himself when Mikey was sick. In short, Mikey was miserable. But he was making a stand, enough was enough.

That night when Mikey was up not sleeping he decided he should probably pack Pete's stuff up and call Patrick to come collect it, (how Pete had gone this long without clean underwear, Mikey didn't want to know), so he ventured into the bedroom and decided to start with the wardrobe. They had become so close over the years he wasn't even sure what was his and what was Pete's anymore.  
Half way through filling a suitcase with Pete’s clothes Mikey found the shoebox he had forgotten they even had. The old box from some hideous shoes Pete thought looked good at some point. The shoebox was full of photos. Photos too privet to hang on walls. Not dirty, exactly, but privet. Little snapshots of moments they didn’t want to share. Moments that didn’t feel right to share. 

He knows looking at them will do no good, he knows that.  
But that doesn’t stop him.

The first photo was one from when they first met. Young and in love. Pete was pressing himself up against Mikey’s face as he took the photo with the pastel pink Polaroid camera he had just bought himself. Mikey was trying not to look too infatuated. He failed. Pates smile was wide and childish, Mikey’s the opposite, small and easily missed. But there none the less. 

Now the second photo actually was dirty. Mikey having snatched the battered Polaroid camera from the bed side table after climbing off Pete mid-fuck. Pete’s laying on the bed, naked and hard and looking like everything Mikey had ever wanted. His mouth is hanging open in shock from Mikey stoping so suddenly, his hair is stuck to his head with sweat, his eyes are desperate and needy. 

Mikey remembers right after the flash went off, he answered Pete’s confused expression with “I’m taking a picture, because it’ll last longer”. Pete broke into loud dumb laughter and called Mikey back to bed with threats of “I’ll show you last longer…” 

The next photo was one Pete made Gerard take of them just before Pete took Mikey out to some fancy restaurant neither of them could really afford. It was their anniversary. Mikey said he was fine with just staying in, making out of the couch for a few hours before taking it to the bedroom. Pete said they had to be classy and go out first. They both wore horribly uncomfortable suits. Mikey wanted to rip Pete’s apart and he could tell Pete felt the same. 

“You look good”, was what Mikey said instead. 

The dinner was okay. They ate, they talked, and they tried not to look as desperate to touch each other as they felt. After a hurried meal Pete suggested they leave and Mikey had never heard him say anything as agreeable before. 

The pair barley got through the front door of their shared apartment before jackets and ties where bring thrown carelessly through the air. 

It was the best sex Mikey had ever had, by far. Everything was magnified, every part of his body felt alive. He couldn’t breathe anything that wasn’t Pete. He didn’t want to. 

Mikey was crying again, he thought he was over this. What was he thinking? Pete’s his whole life. Sure he’s fucked up but who hasn't? He can’t just move on. Somehow he knew that all along. 

With shaking hands he closed the box and sat it back in the wardrobe. Mikey got up and walked into the lounge room where his phone sat, turned off, because he couldn't handle Pete’s sad poetry and sorry text messages, not to mention the fifty calls a day. 

He turned the phone back on and instantly felt it vibrate with all the messages he’s received in the last day alone. The last of which said:  
“my head is full of fire alarms & losing u” 

Mikey wiped his eyes and quickly typed  
“I don’t want to lose you”

**Author's Note:**

> soz it doesnt really end properly, im lazy and impatient. 
> 
> thnks fr rdng <3
> 
> tell me im pretty in the comments


End file.
